Brainstorming

I am feeling a bit more positive than I was in this morning’s post, Dad got up for a while around 2pm, I laid on the couch dozing on and off, keeping my eyes and ears on alert. He fell on Wednesday, big gash on his head, poor Pops.

It happened while his caregiver was here, she called me saying there has been an accident. I believe the first thing you should tell a loved one is that the patient is OK before you dump the accident stuff on them. It keeps from shaving a couple years off their lifespan, because, as a family member, your heart just falls out of your chest when you hear,

” Hello, Ms. Kiko? There has been a terrible accident…”

What is the first thing you think of? Yup, I thought so: That he is dead or maimed or otherwise terribly injured.

So, I had been dropping off a painting at the Art Gallery, so I raced the 10 miles to the hospital in rush hour traffic, all the while telling myself that, as a law abiding Christian, I should be setting a good example and pleasing God by obeying the speed limit. I really tried, and I do always try, but that is a difficult task when your Dad is lying helpless and afraid in an Emergency Room.

I hit the Hospital doors at a trot, had my ID already in hand to be checked in, and rushed down the hall to his bedside, ready to find him at death’s door.

Of course, the scene that greeted me was quite different!

“Hiya there! Where have you been?”, he laughs with a big smile.

He smiles his most charming at the cute little nurse who is taking his blood pressure.

“Are you Ok, Dad? I heard you had a bad fall!”

He looks at me quizically, “Did I?”

I could just pinch him, but he looks so little and frail in the big hospital bed, so I kiss him on the cheek instead. Now I can see the big gash on his scalp, and blood all over the pillow. Oh, my, I think, here we go again. I just cannot bear him spending any time in this hospital, this is the place where he fell twice in May, the place that caused him so much anguish mentally, the hospital that hastened his Alzheimer’s Disease and broke his spirit, and the place where I had to face the reality of my losing him. Imminent. On the Horizon.

I hate that hospital. I told Dad’s doctor that I am trying to sue them for what they had done to him, and the doctor brings me back to reality: I am going to do whatever is necessary to get your Dad better from this fall…

Now I feel like a real heel, like that wasn’t what I wanted too?

I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs:

  I DO NOT WANT TO FEEL THIS!!!!

I DO NOT WANT TO WATCH MY FATHER DIE!!!

WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS FALL TO ME? TO SEE MY PARENTS, TO SEE THE PEOPLE I NEED, THE PEOPLE I LOVE, TO SEE THEM ALL LEAVING?

TO SEE THEM ALL DYING.

TO BE LEFT HERE all alone.

But, I did not say anything except , Ok. Thank You.

Now you understand a little more why I am so tired today, this month, this year.

Each day that goes by I feel a little more dead myself,

all tied up in my solitary cell, watching my life pass by.

I know deep inside that I want to do this, and I want to be with Daddy till the end. I just get so lonely at times. But I don’t mean to sound bitter. I am grateful for everyday I have. Just feeling a bit sorry for myself tonight. It will get better- I promise!

I will place my burdens on Jehovah tonight, He will hear my cries for help. I will pray in Jesus dear name, and Jehovah will breath new endurance into me.

His promises will all come true.

How Do I Do? a poem of sorts

I am totally mixed up- headed for a crash

all I have created- right into the trash.

where will I be when the smoke clears?

who will I be when the time nears?

I hear voices all the time now’

can no longer recall which one is mine,

I mean to call or drop a line now,

but I’m tied up all the time.

tied up, mixed up, mixed nuts, fixed up

tied down, home bound, not found

under ground.

is this what happens when the party ends?

the high, high rises,

the good, good friends?

see all the bottles, empty and broken

just like myself, the one i put hope in…

shall i sneak away, slink around?

put all the colors away for a year-

maybe two…

or should I Shout-Carry Out!

Do All I know I can do!!

yes ma’am-that’s me!

the New-How-Do-You-Do-Sue!!

That Brave Girl

this is not the one i am entering. this is titled “Angry Daughter”.

The decision to enter my painting in an art show at a real art gallery was easy to make. I believe I am being motivated by fear, having learned while Pops was in hospital that I will basically be destitute after he dies or if he must be placed in a home. I had always hoped that I could make a living with my art, knew I could, really, but I never wanted to let anyone see it. It isn’t that I am ashamed, it is just so personal. That is my heart on the canvas, my veins torn open, my blood on the page.

I never wanted to sell out. to allow complete strangers to dissect my innermost thoughts, to critique my self expression. My life has been so full of can’ts:

You aren’t a boy, Susan. You can’t play ball like that.

You can’t just draw from your imagination- you must be trained properly.

You can’t go to art school, it is not realistic.

You are too sensitive, you can’t take everything to heart.

YES I CAN!!!!

The latest critic in my life is an elderly aunt, who believes she has my best interest at heart by terrifying me about my future. She wan’ts me to look into selling my antiques, selling my china, selling my whole sense of home and safety in preparation for the big nothingness that she keeps reminding me that looms ahead when Dad dies.

I try very hard to be smilingly pleasant on the phone with her, but it is the most negative words she can say. She totally does not understand my bipolar disorder or depression. I absolutely CAN NOT focus on what MIGHT happen. I will dwell on it, I will obsess about it, and if I am not careful, I will drink and drug over it. Her constant warnings of doom will be a self fulfilling prophecy for me.

Afterward

I was on my own for many years without any material possessions, and those were some of the most meaningful years of my life. Meaningful in that I learned how to survive happily with nothing, that I appreciated every single meal, blanket, pot, pan, article of clothing, tree, water faucet, sunrise- and every single human being who crossed my path.

I was much younger, sure, but I learned how to SURVIVE. And I succeeded.

Jesus had no place to lay his head- he lived by faith. He lived free, and appreciated all His Father’s blessings. He did not fear not knowing where he would sleep, what he would eat, and the Bible counsels us to follow in his footsteps.

I do not want to sell Mom’s china, and I won’t. If I have to eat dog food on it in the dark, then that is what I will do. I will use my considerable brain function to keep my head above the proverbial water, but not by selling the things I hold dear, or by giving into fear of what may or may not happen.

virginia rose antique china

after I lost 70 pounds in 2010! (now I have to lose it again!!)

If something good can come out of my anger at her doubt in me, it is that I am taking a leap of faith and taking my painting to the Gallery.

And I might just take a binder on my writings to an editor while I am at it!

So thank you Auntie Doubtful for the motivation. I remember that I am still the brave girl who jumped on a freight train and rode across Arizona, hitchhiked through 6 states, dumpster dove for greasy Mcdonald’s burgers, and that they tasted like T-bones!

I am the brave girl who worked 27 jobs in 25 years, rigged for the crane building Missle Silos, worked with Belgians and Shires and Clydesdales and Andalusians, and groomed the Atlanta Police department’s horses, learned to decorate cakes and operate forklifts, did lawn maintenance and worked on the tip of an island in the Atlantic. I have befriended train tramps and illegal immigrants, and helped a 15 year old Mexican kid hide in a grain car to get to his uncle’s house, his only relative in this world! I have accepted gifts of food, and given some, accepted rides and given many, and I have loved and believed in the very best of my fellow man, and I also believe in myself.

I am the brave girl who survived rape ad beatings, being stabbed and shot at, falling in holes and having horses roll on me, having a riding lawnmower flip over on me, divorcing a dangerous man, jail, drug addiction, alcoholism, hepatitis C, and the death of my beloved Mom, and losing my sanity, and I am still standing, even if it is crooked.

I am that brave girl, and I am a survivor.

That Brave Girl!

Will The Real Me Please Come Back?

Forgetting  where I have come from is a double edged sword. Those who forget the past are doomed to relive it, I have heard. Most of mine I would rather not relive, but I want to keep all the lessons I have learned. I have some trouble in that area, because I keep getting the same type of unfavorable reaction from others. I hate rejection and discord, so I must look inside again. Because that must be where the problem lies: character flaws.

I had thought I was a pleasant person, funny, clever, and interesting. During Dad’s recent hospitalization I made many videos to document the whole ordeal. I have him home now, and I was looking over my tablet, watching the videos. I see how obnoxious I am. It is no wonder I have trouble interacting with professional medical people. I come off as a stuck-up, angry know-it-all, and not a bit charming and likeable like I want to be. What a slap in the face, and tho’ it stings, I believe this rude awakening will help me immensely in the larger picture. That being my interactions with everyone else in the world from here on in!!!

I fancied that I had changed much since becoming a baptised Christian ten years ago. Even though I have heard Biblical warnings about our work never being done, always striving to keep putting on the “new personality”, I guess I thought that counsel only applies to people with obvious, blatant flaws. Not mild, loving, modest, kind people such as myself.

Oh, baloney. There I was, captured in the camera, loud, overly made-up, trying to look thirty something, ranting on and on about how inept everyone else is. I have been blaming my lack of friends on the fact that people are so busy nowadays, now I realize they have most likely been avoiding me like the plague. Because everything I talk about is negative, just like the way I write my blog! I am really embarassed, but not so much that I will give up and go away.

I always do better when I have a “mission”, a “cause”, and my mission is to lose this “hard butt, know -it-all facade. To let the love, the light back into m weary soul. To become that quiet and mild person who I know still waits for me, deep inside. She wants me to find my way back again, to stand by that gently gurgling brook where I go to in my inner world. To sit calmly under my giant oak tree and glory in the wonders of Creation. To praise my God, and to be His daughter, to let all these awful worries and fears leave me.

To just be Susan again, not angry at the whole world, but rather a gentle, loving part of the healing that this heart needs. I am still in here somewhere, a frightened little girl, looking for acceptance, love, and a friend.

I will get there some day:)

How Do They Dare?

How Do They Dare:

to say they know how I feel?

to say they understand my pain?

to say I am overmedicated?

say I am overfed, or unleared?

to say I am just overreacting?

pretend to know what my lonely days are like?

to use my body when I said,”NO!”?

to laugh at a man in pain?

to feed my children their sick ideas, on love, on morality?

to say they know my God, when they don’t even use His name?

to feed the native people their poison corn, while they eat the fatted calf?

to make my mother pay for the chemo that killed her?

to say they have my best interest at heart, when they don’t have a heart to know?

How far shall I go? How far do I dare?

I do Dare, because I am full of power, power to read for myself what the Good Book says, not their interpretation.

I am full of power to make up for my own mind what God I will serve.

I will not bow down to the TV god, who shows me that all that glitters is dead.

The power I have in this mind God gave me tells me to reject the lies of the politicians, who say my sons must kill other humans.

Reject the lies of the church that says my sons must die for a god that belongs to lying politicians.

I have the power Jehovah gives me to fight for my right to believe in his Son, Jesus Christ, a Son who restores life to the dead, who is the very image of his Father, and who Is my reigning King.

For Him I will gladly die, I will gladly die for my brother.

Freedom lies in the Truth, and lies never lead to freedom.

I have the power to open my mouth, to pick up my pen, to type on my keyboard, because you are all my neighbors, and it is my moral obligation to try to help you Survive!

Survive through the lies, live into a peace that comes from Freedom, the wonderful freedom of the children of God.

I will be there, I will be the one with the big smile, and the open arms to welcome you.

We will never have to feel the Big Empty, anymore.

We will never want our eyes to shut, forever.

The Great Gnawing Fear that has dogged us all our lives will be gone, and there will be no more burning pain.

The 1st liar in history will be gone, Our King will see to that, just as His Father promised.

They won’t dare to lie anymore, the time for lying will be over.

Then the greatest thing of all will happen: our people who have died will come out of the grave and Live again, and Love us again!

Death, the result of the 1st lie ever told, will be thrown away, forever!

No one will ever hurt us again!!!

They wouldn’t  dare!!

What is Paradise? What does it mean to you, if you could just glimpse it in your mind’s eye?

To me it means peace, and a beautiful quiet. No one yelling, no one swearing, no one hating. Clean water, clean air. The joy of making this earth a beautiful garden again, with no pollution, no decay. Endless years of life in a perfect, pain-free, young body, and waking up like I did as a kid, with wonder in my eyes at the possibilities for the day! Perfection means feet that can run, arms that can hug, a heart that can truly feel love, all under our loving God, Jehovah.

(Please take this chance, and dare to be different. dare to ask questions, and be brave enough to accept the truth when you hear it…)

Like that young actor said at the Oscars, keep being weird! And brave!

this kind of started out as a poem, but then I started thinking about how awful conditions have gotten, all the terrible acts of violence. And the only solution they ever talk about includes inflicting some kind of suffering on someone else. Sanction, war, airstrikes, and on and on.

I just want to give someone hope…there is a way of peace…